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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Whilst I remain hopeful and confident There are doubts in my veins Eating up my blood and causing pains With absolutely no room to frail I always formulate and jubilate but to no avail Because this fear marinate my genes and sips down my ribs, making my jean sags I want to make perfect gains Double and even triple my pains to gain the nickels and meet the pays But deep within me, there's a pouch of fears, acting as regression forces shrilling my hopes into tears My hopes truncate, decays and profligates This send chills down my spine and blow air away from my portals trees Many suffer from this chronic disorder And cannot maintain a perfect concordance In the rush of this nondescript mordancy I resort to a different connotation So as to divert my attention to its denotation Yet, the shackles of fearsomeness Overpower my inner handsomeness And arrest my potent irksomeness I want to conquer many degrees, have a viable pedigree at age thirty three. But the fear to treat this decree with enough alacrity is mystic and a hopeless treaty. I spy the sky and want to skydive to hit the sides of the stars Yet my eyes sink and stinks causing an oversight at that pretty All because my urge is sheared and tears between hope and despair, the result I fears. This fear stick with my bones and burrows into my marrows with probes like a proboscis I quiver and saunter down my inner meter The result is a haze with no taste and so I salivate to mitigate my chase.
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